


If this were my last snowfall, I’d dream about you and me

by lomku



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nomad Steve Rogers, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25339726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lomku/pseuds/lomku
Summary: Steve never stopped being Nomad, and Tony's drinking his life away.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 29
Collections: Team Angst





	If this were my last snowfall, I’d dream about you and me

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Hopelesse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelesse/pseuds/hopelesse) for the beta and helping me come up with a title!  
> This fic takes place on Earth 82807, the only difference with Earth 616 being that Steve never stopped being Nomad. The story happens during Iron Man's second drinking arc and the dialogue is taken almost verbatim from the comics.
> 
> With that said, enjoy!

“What you thinkin’ about, Tones?”

* * *

Once upon a time, Tony Stark was a billionaire, an inventor. Once upon a time, he wore the Iron Man armour and was even considered a hero.

Now, he’s wandering the streets in the same clothes he’s worn for months, looking for a woman he can’t help. It’s Christmas tomorrow, and the blizzard is so thick that he can’t see more than a few feet before him.

It’s going to be the worst storm since 1943.

No weather for sleeping outside.

He won’t survive the night if he stays outside.

He needs to find Gretl.

* * *

You get used to living in the streets very quickly. You know where to sleep, how to avoid the cops, which doorways are free and which parks stay open all night.

A lot of things happen during the night. Luckily, when you’re a drunk, people leave you alone. They know you don’t have anything worth any money, except for the booze. They know you won’t meddle. You ignore them, they ignore you.

Tony knows to avoid some alleys if he doesn’t want to be woken up by screaming.

He can’t help them. He’s not Iron Man anymore.

* * *

The shadow is there again, black on black, a glint of yellow in the streetlights. It doesn’t move from where it’s immobile on the other side of the street. There’s nothing to see here, Tony thinks. Just an empty street and a wino on a bench.

_Leave me alone._

The shadow doesn’t move.

* * *

Gretl.

Gretl.

Gretl.

He has to find her. She’s got a baby. It’s so cold.

His bottle is empty.

* * *

He walks past the mansion, by accident, or maybe not. He can’t look at it. He lived there, once. When he was still a hero. It’s home to other people now.

_“I appreciate you taking your valuable time to help a desk jockey with his neuroses.”_

_“_ You _appreciate…? Are you kidding? Mr. Stark, when I woke up in this era, I had no one. Nothing. You gave me a purpose, somewhere to belong… you gave me a_ home _.”_

He’s not drunk enough for this trip down memory lane. He can’t… He can’t deal with memories of Steve. Steve, who told Tony he gave him a home and then left him, Steve, who took off the Captain America mantle, Steve, who could be anywhere.

He hasn’t seen Nomad in a while.

* * *

He’s on the floor, bottle in hand, watching the smoke billow above him. In a few minutes, the fire will reach his room, and he’ll be dead. He wonders if the alcohol in his blood will make him light up, a bright flame that will consume itself in seconds. Or maybe he’ll suffocate before then.

It’s hard to think.

There’s still wine in the bottle. It’d be a waste to let the fire evaporate it. He should drink it. At least he’ll go down doing something he loves. (Loving something and being addicted to something is the same, right?)

He can’t see straight.

He coughs.

Where’s the bottle? He had it… He had it just now, he’s sure of it, and if his hand could just stop shaking—

Who turned off the lights?

* * *

Tony’s nursing his bottle. It’s the last expensive one he bought, an old scotch. It burns his throat, and empties his mind, and he loves the taste of it.

He’s not an alcoholic, he just likes the taste of alcohol. It’s different.

There’s a man watching him from the shadows. His shape, his posture, the tension that flows from him are familiar.

What a coincidence, Nomad meeting Iron Man.

* * *

In the end, it’s Gretl that finds him. She’s going to have her baby soon, she says. They won’t make it to the hospital, she says. It’s just like being stranded on top of a mountain, she says. But there won’t be any rescue.

Tony’s with a woman he almost loves, and they could almost be cuddling. They’re wrapped around each other, sucking the warmth from each others’ body and leaving too little in return. His teeth are shattering.

Tony drinks and shivers.

* * *

Steve becoming Nomad never really surprised Tony. He’s so attached to his freedom, his ideals are so strong, that he was bound to be disappointed in the government one day or another. What really surprised Tony, however, is that Steve never went back to being Captain America.

During the first few months of having Steve as Nomad, Tony’d been obsessed with the costume. He’d been happy every time he could see Steve, because in the armour, no one could see him trail his eyes down the tantalizingly low V-neck of the suit. The cape had been fun too, until Steve confessed he’d had to rip it off after tripping over it. Tony hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

But then Steve stopped coming to the Avengers meet-ups.

And he wouldn’t respond to Tony’s calls.

And then there was a letter to the Avengers, that said that Steve wanted to be on his own from now on, wanted to embrace the Nomad title, wanted to travel the world and help other people and he’d loved his time as an Avenger but it was too intertwined with Captain America and he needed space and he would come back, but not for a long time, and please don’t try to find me.

Love, Steve Rogers.

* * *

Tony isn’t dead. He’s slumped against a street light, watching the hotel go up in flames. No one died, the police are saying. A miracle, Christmas come early.

There’s something on the tar next to Tony. A charred bit of leather, the yellow reflecting the blaze. He touches it.

It’s almost nothing, almost just a piece of cloth.

Tony thinks of blue eyes and blond hair and doesn’t know if he should be thankful or if he should curse Steve for not leaving him in the fire.

He walks away before anyone recognises him.

* * *

It takes a stupid bet with a cop for Tony to realise he’s got a drinking problem.

 _Again_ , he doesn’t think.

 _Maybe this time it’ll stick_ , he doesn’t think.

 _That’s all you’re good for_ , he doesn’t think.

* * *

Excessive consumption of alcohol can lead to iron deficiency and anemia. If Stark men are made of iron, and Tony doesn’t have enough of it, then what is he?

* * *

He’s lost his company, he’s lost his apartments, he’s lost his money, his friends are leaving him.

It’s for the best, he thinks. That way it will hurt them less.

When will it finally end, he wonders.

* * *

It’s Christmas, and he’s got something to celebrate. He’s toasting to the end of living. His end, to be exact.

He’s cold.

He wraps his arms around him, as if that will stop the biting of the wind and the wet burn of the snow.

_I guess this is it._

_I guess I’m dying._

_I guess it doesn’t matter._

_I guess I don’t care._

* * *

Steve never talks to him, never gets near enough for Tony to see his eyes. He doesn’t really know what to think of it, so he peers down the bottle instead. When he’s drunk half of it, there’s always this fleeting moment of euphoria, where everything will take a golden haze, where nothing will hurt, where he forgets what he’s doing and why.

In those moments, Steve is his saving angel, always there to take care of Tony, silently standing by and protecting him. The angel Steve would never give up on Tony.

Then the moment passes, and he remembers he’s a pathetic waste of a man, that he’s not worth saving. He had it all, and he threw it down the drain all the same, and he knows Steve is only there to make sure that he doesn’t do something dangerous like flying in the suit. As if he could. He’s not Iron Man anymore.

Steve’s disgusted by him, and he should be, and he’ll be happy when Tony finally meets his end.

* * *

Of course, Tony tries to find Steve anyway. Just to know where he is. Just in case Nomad needs help. But it doesn’t work. He tries, and tries, and tries, but Steve’s gone.

Steve doesn’t need him. Steve is just fine on his own.

Steve doesn’t want to see Tony.

* * *

Once upon a time, Tony thought he might have a chance with Steve. He had it all planned out: a quiet dinner out, a careful proposition, and hope. Hope that he hadn’t misread Steve’s smiles and glances and touches. Hope that it went both ways.

But then Steve became Nomad, and he disappeared, and Tony got his answer.

* * *

“Armour I used to wear that I thought made me invincible.”

Armour that kept others out, but kept him in. Safe from the outside world. Imprisoned. A part of him died there, inside the first suit. The rest of him never stopped screaming.

Booze dulls the pain, quiets the screaming, hurries along the slow dying.

* * *

In the end, Gretl manages to bite the dust before Tony. And now he can’t let himself go, because there is a baby, and he promised to keep her safe. He puts her in his arms, near his skin, huddling for warmth.

He’s cold.

The snow has buried his last bottle.

He might not survive the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the SteveTony games, team Angst.
> 
> I'd love it if you left a comment <3


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